It's the Bob and Tom show.

Well, the church burned down and no one knew what Pentecost Baptist was going to do.

The Sunday brimstone got so that gum hot it burned up a church bus in the parking lot.

In a panic, the Reverend Dr. White called up an ex-member that hadn't lived, right?

He owned Joe's beer joint right across the fence. It's the same Joe's he preached against. He said, I don't really want to be a hypocrite. I got a Sunday school class, about to have fits. We're all excited about revival week and been moved by the spirit, so to speak. With all the souls we saved and money we spent, we thought God told us to sell that tent. I got a famous evangelist supposed to come and doesn't run out of chairs. Will you loan us some? Joe said, hell, you can just use a whole dang place. A-9 on a jukebox, Amazing Grace. I ain't supposed to be open because of them blue laws, but we'll open tonight if it's all right with y'all. Preacher said, well, I reckon that'd be okay. The good

Lord works in mysterious ways. He's going to talk about Joshua, judges, and Ruth, and I reckon I

can do it from the DJ booth. At the first Baptist bar and grill, it's the only church in the

Bible belt that smells like a whiskey still. When the center's finish one more round, we'll have dinner on the ground and go inside

and hell pray we don't get killed.

The evangelist came with a well-dressed choir.

They showed up around happy hour, looked around the joint, and didn't take it real well,

that the white ministry has gone to hell.

Ms. Mills at taught youth Sunday school

and two dickens in the back room shooting pool

were sharing the Lord with a Jim Beam rep

who was teaching Ms. Mills some line-down step.

Reverend White was reading from the book

A Luke to a tall drunk trucker about to puk.

He had John 316 memorize

trying to dry his ass out to get him baptized. The evangelist yelled about the lights and the beer. Said, why, you can't save any souls in here. This place ain't nothing but a den of sand. Ain't the kind of place Baptist ought to be in. Preacher said, well, we don't really need y'all here. You didn't do a very good job last year. Only save one sinner, as Todd McGuire's, a little S.O.B. that set my church on fire. Joe's beer joint has done been revived. Only been here an hour and I done save five. Sure it's got mirrors and a big dance floor, but I finally found the flock God called me for. There at the First Baptist Bar and Grill.

It's the only church in the Bible Belt that smells like a whiskey still.

Not a stained glass window anywhere in sight, just a bloodstained floor and neon lights and a

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